Redlining has had effects on other major cities in the United States such as Chicago, Philadelphia and even our nation’s capital and my mother’s hometown, Washington D.C. My mother would send us for summers to Washington D.C. to visit our Grandparents, Aunts and Uncle.
We had many seafood feasts at the round wood table in my Papa’s and Granny Liz’s dining room. We would cover the table in news paper and dump shrimp, crab legs, and blue crabs that we bought alive from the seafood market earlier in the day. My Aunt Dana (my mother’s sister whom I’m named after) would chase us up the stairs with live crabs. As much we were terrified, it was hilarious, and I’m sure we’ll never forget it.
446 Buchanan St. is in northwest Washington D.C. and about a 10-minute drive away from the White House. This is where my mother, her 3 sisters, and 1 brother were raised by my Papa and Granny Liz. My grandparents married in 1952. They lived in worked on the family sharecropping farm in Kinston, North Carolina. Post the Civil War, this was the way of life for many African Americans in the south. Sharecropping families tended to the farm as if it were their own but on average only earned 25 cents on a dollar. With industrialization and city living on the rise, many African Americans found themselves headed north away from the rural south into a bustling new industry life and better wages.
Starting as early as the 1910’s up into the 1970’s, about 6 million African Americans moved from the south to the progressive north, northwestern and western cities in search of a better quality of life and an escape from racism. Although racism still existed everywhere, it was a different kind of racism. Seemed more “reasonable” and “tolerable” than that of the south which often ended up in harm or worse, death. The Great Migration is one of the largest movements of people in United States history. My grandparents, in 1954, were amongst those who journeyed north, and they chose Washington D.C. They lived with family until they could save up enough to afford a home of their own.
In 1961, after having 2 girls, my Aunt Ce Ce and my mother, and my Aunt Dana the way, they purchased the home at 446 Buchanan St NW for $34,000. Our same family home was just sold January 27th, 2022, for $1,175,000. 60 years of family, love and hard work yielded a 3,355% return on my grandparent initial investment. Would you believe me if I told you my family did not see one dime of this return? Actually, the amount of interest paid on the reverse mortgage started in 2016 by my, at the time retired, grandfather was $232,067.53. This was nearly $200,000 more than the original price of the house. After the passing of my Papa October 2020, the interest continued to go up $2500 per month until we sold the property. After trying to figure out ways to save 446 Buchanan, my Aunt Dana and power of attorney over the estate, decided it was best for us to sale and sale fast.
We sold the property to a Russian couple who were real estate investors. The final amount owed to the bank was $675,000 which is what we had to sell the home for in the summer of 2021. At the time, the house was only worth $670,000. Gratefully, we handed over the asset because it was to much of a financial burden for our family to bare. I wondered, how we arrived at such a decision. How could we have saved the family home? Where did we go wrong? What financial decisions leading up to this point allowed us to lose out on the generational wealth we could have acquired?
More than losing the first family home and financial foundation, what troubled me the most, was going back to the home and not seeing a trace of familiarity. The house now stands out amongst the older row houses in the neighborhood. The place I once knew, was somewhat of a stranger to me. I could barely recognize the once light blue painted porch and white trimmed natural red brick row house. The 3-level home originally had 1 bathroom and 3 bedrooms with a spacious unfinished basement. Once the investing couple completed renovations, the home had become a 4 bedroom with 3.5 bathrooms. Modern in the design approach, it seems all the character of the home was gone.
Heartbroken, once again, and confused, I began to question myself. I also questioned those around me. In a capitalistic society, does your financial background determine who you will be or how you are perceived? Does my ethnicity predetermine my financial future? How can I, as an African American, be a part of the American dream and create lasting generational wealth for my family? Does becoming the investor mean profiting from another’s financial hardship? Did it have to be someone else’s loss in order for me to win? Is that even something I wanted to be a part of? So many questions came to mind as well as plans. First, however, I had to understand what the actual problem was, which I will explore with my research in this thesis.
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